


The D'Haran-Midlands Alliance

by hrhrionastar



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-22
Updated: 2011-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhrionastar/pseuds/hrhrionastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for legendland, for the Alternate Universe challenge. The Lord of D'Hara and the Mother Confessor sign a treaty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The D'Haran-Midlands Alliance

Darken Rahl, Lord of D'Hara and Conqueror of the Midlands, watched the Mother Confessor carefully from beneath deceptively lowered lashes.

She was beautiful. Her blonde hair and warmly tan skin gave her an overpoweringly golden aura, save for her Underworld green eyes.

Cara Mason had succeeded fantastically young to her present dignities, after the tragic and mysterious death of Mother Confessor Serena. Now she was a young woman at the peak of her powers.

It was not entirely wise, perhaps, to be meeting her here in a tent precisely between his Dragon Corps soldiers and the Home Guard that defended Aydindril. They were alone, except for her Wizard and his First Mistress.

Darken's eyes were drawn to Kahlan. She stood at his side, her beautiful face starkly impassive.

But he knew she disapproved. Confessors were dangerous.

Mother Confessor Cara set the treaty on the table and stepped back, her hands opening as if to emphasize that she held no weapon. It was a graceful and deeply misleading gesture.

Darken pulled the parchment toward him and read through it, noting each item carefully.

He had conquered the Midlands, yes—but that, as the Mother Confessor insisted, was no reason not to accord them some dignity.

Darken reached for his quill—and paused. "Why are you doing this?" he asked curiously.

Mother Confessor Cara shrugged one golden tan shoulder. "With one stroke, the Midlands save face and D'Hara doesn't starve. It works on every level. Lord Rahl."

His title was a palpable afterthought.

Darken's lips twisted in ironic appreciation.

One stroke of his dagger across his palm, one sloping signature, and the treaty was sealed in blood.

The resulting alliance would feed his people, and give him the opportunity, Darken hoped, of furthering his acquaintance with the Mother Confessor.


End file.
